The sun also rises

One man has recently been compared to the most revered name in the history of Turkish cinema, Yılmaz Güney. The name of the supposed successor of Güney comes as a shock to many, especially to high-brow "white Turks," who have problems making peace with Turkey’s "arabesque" pop culture. To the horror of all who fit into this category, the recent box office success, "Güneşi Gördüm" (I Saw the Sun) reads proudly on screen, "Written and directed by Mahsun Kırmızıgül."

For nearly two decades, Kırmızıgül has been one of the most popular singer/songwriters of arabesque pop music in Turkey. Hailed by the poor, the uneducated, and the lower class, and looked down on by upper-class Turks who like ti think of themselves as having more refined tastes, Kırmızıgül generated his typical brand of music, and proved himself an astute businessman with the launch of his successful production company, Prestij Müzik.

So when the news of Kırmızıgül testing the waters in cinema hit the gossip mill three years ago, no one really took the impending "Kırmızıgül the director" seriously. When "Beyaz Melek" (The White Angel) hit screens two years ago, awestruck was the best word to describe many a reaction. Kırmızıgül displayed a surprising flair for a good story, did an above-average job in directing actors, and above all, managed to make a film that pleased the critics and the audience, even if moderately.

Kırmızıgül’s second movie "Güneşi Gördüm" comes out as an impressive piece of work, especially when considering he is tackling the Kurdish problem in southeastern Turkey with unexpected honesty and craft. The movie tells the story of two families and their forced journey from their village in southeastern Turkey, located at the heart of the guerrilla war, to the West, to Istanbul and even farther west to Norway. "Güneşi Gördüm" tells of many stories in separate parts, interconnected in some cases, but all serving a greater story, the tragedies of a region for three decades.

The ultimate taboo until recently, the Kurdish problem was discussed in the language of formal history, of the government. The tragedies of 35,000 people who died in the last three decades, those close to and those who just happened to be stuck in the middle of a war, were never part of a discussion in mainstream media, literature and cinema. It was the time of war, and hence the time of censorship. "Güneşi Gördüm" opens up these tragedies, perhaps directly for the very first time.

As we meet with folks of the small, remote village we are exposed to the fundamental problems of the area. Davut (Altan Erkekli) has three sons. One is a soldier, and another a terrorist, and there is a high possibility of the two brothers having to fight each other. The youngest brother had lost one of his legs from a land mine. And in the middle of all this, we see the anguish of Davut and his wife, Gülistan (Şerif Sezer).

We are introduced to three other men in the village, also brothers. Ramo (Mahsun Kırmızıgül) is waiting desperately for the obligatory son, following a set of four daughters. Mamo (Murat Ünalmış) is the typical macho brother, making sure that the effeminate brother Kadri (Cemal Toktaş) doesn’t stray from manhood and hence the family’s honor.

After a chilling operation one night very close to the village, the residents are forced by the government to evacuate their village. Where they will go and what they will do seems to be of no concern to the commander in charge of the evacuation. Davut and what remains of his family decide to move illegally to Norway, where a relative found refuge years ago. Others settle in Istanbul where surviving by any means becomes the norm.

The film portrays one tragedy after another. In another context, it could be exploitative. But one who is familiar with the tragedies of people in the region will know that the stories are nothing short of the truth, and unfortunately valid for the majority. The actors all shine in the film, aiming to shoot right through the heart. Kırmızıgül, walked sure-footed to the director’s chair and told a heart-breaking story with chillingly genuine dialogue. Telling the real stories of the underdogs with honesty and despair is the main reason Kırmızıgül is compared to Güney, and so far those comparisons prove to be quite accurate and fair.